


The Bickering Brothers

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, Smut, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 00:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft attend a family get-together, being their bickering selves.





	The Bickering Brothers

**Baker Street, two months after “The Final Problem”**

 

“A christening… You´ll be going to a christening…“ _Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock?_ was clearly written on the doctor's face.

“I don't understand why this amazes you so much, John. It's the christening of my cousin Lauandra's…” _Shit… Son? Daughter?_ “…baby.”

“You do realise that you just couldn’t remember the gender of the child?”

 _Shit, since when do you pay so much attention?_ “I must have deleted this information.”

“Yeah, of course. But really…” John shook his head in disbelief.

“It's a family event - I'm expected to show up, if I want to or not.”

John laughed out loud. “Since when do you care?”

“It was not my idea, right? My mother said I had to. And perhaps it won’t be so bad…” He almost choked at the last sentence. It would be awful. But it was what his mother expected, and the events in Sherrinford had shown him that sometimes family was more important than doing nice, selfish things. No matter how much he would suffer there…

“Unbelievable… You recall Rosie’s christening? You were on the phone all the time and didn’t pay any attention to the ceremony.”

_Yes, because it was boring. And this one will be exactly as boring._

“And since when do you give a damn about your family? When has Mycroft been here the last time?”

“Don't know,” Sherlock mumbled.

“I do. He hasn’t been here since Sherrinford. Not once.”

“I did see him there again. He came with our parents to visit Eurus, and they listened to our duet on the violin.”

“That's good of course. But…”

“I just feel I should spend some time with the family members that are not incarcerated. It's tough enough to deal with Eurus like that.”

“I'll never understand how you could forgive her…”

“Who said that I did? I just don't want to leave her all alone for the rest of her life. She can never get out of there but she's my sister after all.”

“Well, it's an admirable task to comfort… her,” John said, and Sherlock knew that he'd been about to say _this monster_. “She's still not talking?”

“No.”

“Well, that makes her a lot easier to bear I guess… Anyway - Mycroft...”

“Alright, I will call him!”

“Good!”

“Since when are you such a fan of him?” Since when is it not _What goes around, comes around_ anymore?

“He tried to sacrifice himself for me, Sherlock. You know I never liked him, and I doubt that he likes me any better. But what he did there… I'd have never expected this. I mean, yes, it was kind of his fault, but…”

The doorbell interrupted him.

“Oh, we have a client,” Sherlock said cheerily. The Baker Street Boys would have something to do now except for discussing Sherlock's family…

 

**The property of Lauandra and Zacharias Blyton-Hollingworth, three weeks later**

“Oh Sherlock, it's so nice that you're here!”

“Where else would I be? It's a special day for… the little one and you and… your husband,” Sherlock said eloquently. He didn’t have any idea what name would be given to… the baby and he couldn’t remember a thing about Lauandra's husband; he wouldn’t even recognise him. He figured he should have come here a little better-prepared but it was too late now. He had been surprised that they'd all meet up at his cousin's house before the ceremony, and of course he had forgotten it and had driven right to the church first… Well, he hadn't had too much sleep the night before. At least he had taken to dressing up nicely in a light-blue suit and a white shirt, no tie of course. There were certain limits…

“Zach must be somewhere…” She turned around, looking for her spouse, obviously.

“I'm sure I'll meet him later.” At least he was not coming with empty hands. Thanks to John, he had gotten some nice gifts for the baby. Oh, yes, one of them was a doll so it had to be a girl. He hoped…

“And you’ll have to meet our Lesley-Anne!”

Sherlock supposed this had to be the baby's name. It was so _normal_ … “I can't wait,” he assured her. “Where should I put this?” He pointed at the big carton he had brought.

“So many presents? How nice of you, Sherlock!”

“Sherlock, wow, I'd have never thought you'd really show up here,” a man's voice startled him from behind. “I almost thought you were just a family legend, you know, not a real guy.”

“Zach! You have met him!”

“When was that? Five years ago? I'm sure you didn’t come to our wedding. Probably you were chasing a big, bad criminal.”

Sherlock refrained from answering and just watched him when he was walking to his wife. _Banker, rich, arsehole._ He was a head smaller than Sherlock, quite good-looking, with receding hair and a silly moustache. _He looks like a mixture of John and Mycroft… How can I have forgotten him?_

“Your parents are already here, Sherlock – in the garden. Zach will take care of your present and you can greet them and everybody else! We'll go to the church soon. It's only ten minutes from here.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea, Lauandra. I will do that immediately.” With a false smile, he walked through the corridor. It was a really big, posh house - very modern and totally boring. A little like Mycroft's, only without old paintings, suits of armour or wood.

He found the way to the terrace and looked at the people outside. They were sitting at two large tables with white clothing; everybody was provided with a glass of champagne. Sherlock wondered why they had started drinking even before the ceremony. But he wouldn’t have minded a glass or two, either, to get through this day.

He took a deep breath and went into the garden.

“Sherlock, finally!” his mother greeted him, and he was pulled into a crushing embrace.

“My boy!” his father said and patted on his shoulder after Mummy had let him go. “You look good!”

“Well, thank you. You do, too, both of you.”

His relationship with his parents had changed a lot during the last two months. He had only visited them once but they had met at Sherrinford a couple of times and talked a lot on the phone. He felt closer to his family than he had done in a long time. And he was very aware of how old his parents were. He knew he had to cherish them as long as they were still there.

“Sherlock,” he heard a voice behind him.

He turned around. “Mycroft. They let you escape from the office?” His brother wore a light-brown suit and also a white shirt without a waistcoat over it. Rather casual for him. But of course he did wear a tie. And probably sleeve garters…

“It's Sunday, Sherlock; I hardly ever work at the weekends.”

“And I thought you were always chained to your desk.”

Mycroft gave him a raised eyebrow and turned to their mother. “Here's your water with lemon, Mummy.”

“Thank you dear.”

Sherlock remembered very well what a hard time their parents – especially their mother – had given his brother after finding out about Eurus. He would never forget the defeated look on Mycroft's face. It was amazing to him how he had obviously reconciled with the elder Holmeses so completely since then. He knew he wouldn’t have been that forgiving… But he did understand their parents' side as well of course. And now they knew that they had a daughter - as frightening and non-communicative as she might be - and they seemed to be surprisingly happy about it. And they had forgiven Mycroft as well.

“Sherlock, how long have I not seen you! You must tell me about your job!”

He sighed internally. “Aunt Romula, nice to see you…”

*****

Sherlock had not expected to be happy to go to church one day. But at least he wouldn’t be expected to make conversation there. And what a dumb conversation it had been that he had been forced into by one relative or family friend after the other. Why the hell had he come here? He was so totally out of place that he could have been on another planet.

Not that he'd been feeling any more comfortable in the church… He kept away from the happy parents and the crying child as far as he could, more or less hiding in the back of the building. He had seen his brother join their parents in one of the first rows. What a good boy he was today!

Finally the ceremony and the unnerving screaming were over, and the entire bunch of relatives of both the proud mother and the father slowly walked back to the house. Very slowly…

Back in the garden, he took place opposite of his brother; their parents were sitting quite a bit away from them so they could talk to his mother's two sisters.

To either sides of him were his uncle Celcraft – from his father's side – and his cousin Lexus, from his mother's side. Stupid names were all over the family… His brother was surrounded by a young girl named Labea, a fifth grade cousin if he was remembering correctly, and stiff old Aunt Surinda. He couldn’t remember having her seen laugh only once. To compensate that, Labea was looking at her smartphone and giggling all the time. Mycroft was not to be envied…

After the inevitable speeches from the fathers of the proud parents they were provided with lunch, and lots of it. Having as little appetite as always, Sherlock took only small portions from the plates that were easily reachable for him. He looked over to his brother, who was neatly cutting his steak to take a tiny bite each time. His potatoes were on one secluded part of his plate, the salad on the other one.

“Seeing anything interesting?” he startled Sherlock, who had watched him closely.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “No, it's just rather amazing…”

“What is?” Mycroft asked with raised eyebrows before he took the next fork.

“I remember a time when you used to eat like a pig.”

Cousin Lexus almost spat out his food from laughter.

Mycroft didn't flinch. “Was this before or after you used to play pirate and caused the porcelain of Grandmother Esme to fall onto the floor?”

“That was only once, Mycroft!”

“Twice. First the big bowl and then several plates.”

“Your memory is almost as remarkable as the hair above your collar. Never fancied a shave?”

Mycroft just smiled and continued eating.

“What's your favourite case, Sherlock?” his uncle interfered. “The most exciting one that you cracked?”

“Speaking of crack…” Mycroft threw in.

“In fact, it was the case of the stolen missile plans. Mycroft couldn’t solve it himself so he begged me to help him.”

“And you gave the plans to a criminal if I remember correctly.”

“I did apologize for that. And I brought the stick back to you.”

“Because he didn’t want it. But I rather thought you'd choose the case of the compromising photographs. During which you got a little… overexcited…”

Sherlock bit his lip. “Forgetting the killers, brother? You know, the ones who beat up my landlady?”

“Man, you have a great life, Sherlock! I always read your partner's blog!” Cousin Lexus said enthusiastically.

“His partner, yes. Busy little man, isn’t he?” Mycroft reached for the bowl with potatoes.

“Look, Uncle Mycroft, have you seen this?” Labea almost put her phone into the politician's face.

“No, dear, and I do believe I'm not really your uncle.”

“But you're so old! You should be my uncle!”

Sherlock chuckled.

“Yes, and you're still not married, Mycroft?” came from the other side. Apparently Aunt Surinda was able to concentrate on both eating like a well-working machine and annoying her nephew.

“No, Auntie. I… haven't found the right… person.”

“Shame. Not even a nice, decent woman who could accompany you to such an event?”

“Yes, brother! Was the Queen not free today?”

“Do you know her name at all, Sherlock? And what about your boyfriend? Does he have another appointment with his probation officer today so he couldn’t come here with you?”

“Boyfriend?!” Surinda screamed and everybody turned their head towards her.

“Actually, I…”

“You have a boyfriend, Sherlock?” He cringed when he heard his mother's voice behind him. Mycroft sent him a friendly smile. “Not that it surprises me. I told your father  that you have…,” she bent down to him to whisper in his ear, “… a bite mark on your neck.”

 _Shit!_ “Well, it's nothing serious. I wouldn’t bring him to a family get together.”

“It's this nice doctor, isn’t it?” Mummy beamed at him. “I knew it when he moved back in with his daughter.”

“No,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. “It's not John! In fact…” He broke off.

“Don't be shy, Sherlock, tell her about him!”

Sherlock shot a murderous look at his brother. “He's… just a friend…”

“A friend! Ha!” Surinda said. “I can imagine which sort of friend he is!”

Mycroft chuckled. Mummy patted on his shoulder. “I don't want to embarrass you. But you know how happy your father and I would be to welcome him in our house. Have trust in us. We wouldn’t be nasty to him!”

“Thank you,” Sherlock mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush. He had never discussed his sexuality with his family before. And he'd have never thought he would, let alone under such circumstances. He could have kicked his brother for putting him in this situation.

He concentrated on his plate, but he had no appetite at all anymore. He looked over to Mycroft when his brother took off his jacket. He was indeed wearing his sleeve garters. “Eating so much makes you sweat, right?”

“You should try it, too. You look like a sack of bones,” Mycroft retorted.

In this moment, Lauandra walked by with the baby on her arms. “Oh, Lauandra! Mycroft just said he'd like to hold her for a moment!”

Mycroft shot a wild look at him.

“Oh, yes, sure, but not right now. I have to change her nappy,” the proud mother replied.

“I'm sure he doesn’t mind! Just bring her over for a minute!”

“Sherlock…!” Mycroft whispered, and then Lauandra was standing next to him.

“Are you really okay with that?”

“Sure. Oh, what a nice… child you are.” Mycroft held the baby that was sitting on his lap with his fingertips. The girl looked up to him with big eyes, and the tall man's face was a grimace of disgust.

“Cheese!” Sherlock said and took a photo of them with his phone. He was sure that John would love it…

“You'd better take her again. I wouldn’t want to hurt her,” Mycroft suggested in a low voice.

Sherlock grinned and went on eating. Lauandra freed his brother from his ballast.

“How is that?” Labea asked him.

“How's what?” He asked back, feeling confused.

“You know… doing it with a man?”

All four people next to them almost choked on their food; Mycroft and Lexus because of laughter, Surinda and Celcraft because of embarrassment.

“I don't think that's a subject for here and now,” Sherlock mumbled, his cheeks once again on fire.

“Or at all!” Surinda scolded. “It's disgusting and immoral!”

Sherlock put his cutlery on his plate with a loud noise. But before he could say anything, Mycroft turned to their aunt.

“No, it's not, Auntie. There's nothing wrong with it.”

“You are one of them, too, right? I should have known. A man of your age - not married, no children.”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am.”

“And their father and I are proud of our boys.”

Sherlock startled again about his mother's voice. He hadn't even noticed that she had sat down next to him; Lexus had apparently changed places with her, sitting next to his parents now.

“Thank you, Mummy,” Sherlock said and he saw Mycroft smile. This smile did things to him… “Not that the Iceman ever dated anyone…”

“I'm more concerned with preventing our country from being terrorised by criminals, rather than spending my nights with them.”

“They would only be shock-frozen anyway,” Sherlock mumbled.

“Please boys, don't be so nasty to each other!” Mummy said.

In this moment, Mycroft's phone signalised a call. “Oh, excuse me, I…” He took it out of his jacket and put his chair back to stand up, not noticing the waitress behind him, carrying a huge tablet with filled glasses.

Sherlock almost died from laughing when the glasses dropped onto his brother's head, wetting his shirt.

“Oh, sir, I'm so sorry!” the unlucky waitress screamed, and Mycroft cursed.

He reached up with his right hand and grimaced, and Sherlock stopped laughing when he saw the splinter that his brother had pulled out of his neck, and the blood that was flowing down his throat. “Sorry, excuse me.” Mycroft hurried into the house, ignoring his phone that was still ringing.

“Sherlock, go after him and help him!” Mummy demanded.

“Why me, it wasn’t my fault!” he protested.

“Go! Now!”

“Alright.” Sherlock jogged into the house. He looked around and then he heard the noise of running water and followed it. He found his brother in a huge bathroom. He was still wearing his soiled shirt, and pressed a tissue on his neck.

Sherlock walked into the room and closed the door behind him. “Shit, let me see.”

“It's just a scratch.”

“You need to take this off.” Sherlock grabbed the sleeve garter on his left arm and pulled it down while Mycroft took care of his other arm. “On everybody else this would look so silly.”

“And on me?” Mycroft asked and put the metal rings onto the edge of the sink.

“On you...” Sherlock started unbuttoning his shirt, “…they look sexy.”

Mycroft slipped out of his shirt. Several splinters fell onto the floor. “They do?”

“Yes… You know that.” Sherlock urged him to turn around to have a look at the wound. It was deeper than he had thought. “Shit, that must hurt.” He looked around and then took a flannel from a shelf.

“I'm a big boy, Sherlock, it's okay.”

Sherlock wetted the flannel and put it on the cut very carefully. “I know how big you are,” he purred. Then he pressed a kiss on the freckled, hairy skin beside the wound. He simply adored his brother's body hair. More than once he had gotten rock hard by just seeing a few estranged hairs popping up above of his collar.

Mycroft chuckled. “You didn’t see her coming? The waitress?”

“No! And I'm sorry that I laughed.”

“Well…” Mycroft turned around to him and searched his lips for a kiss, “…it fit our ruse very well.”

“Did you have to mention my _boyfriend_ ? My _criminal_ boyfriend?”

“Perhaps not the best idea,” Mycroft agreed. “But I'm sure some member of your homeless network will play the part with joy if necessary. What about this Wiggins type?”

Sherlock grimaced. “No, thanks.” His hands grabbed for Mycroft's trouser button and zipper.

“What do you think you are doing there? We can't do that now!”

“We're alone in a bathroom. We have to take the chance.”

“Be careful. Don't cut your legs.”

“Oh, right, the glass.” Sherlock made sure that he didn’t kneel on it when he dropped down. “Give it to me.”

“You're crazy, Sherlock.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock agreed; talking was difficult with a big object between his lips. He closed his eyes and started sucking, moaning at the familiar, arousing taste and the wonderful feeling of Mycroft's big hands on his head. As usual, Mycroft moaned loudly – he simply couldn’t control it, and it turned Sherlock on immensely. He knew he had to get it over with quickly - much to his distaste. But he sucked hard and let his tongue lick out Mycroft's slit roughly, and it wasn’t long until Mycroft's moan echoed through the generous room and he pulsed into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock swallowed eagerly, hard and wet in his trousers. He freed his cock while he was still milking the last drops out of Mycroft's dick with his mouth, and then he came into his hand with a suppressed growl. He was pulled on his feet a second later.

“Give it to me,” Mycroft demanded, and Sherlock offered him his hand, almost fainting at the sight of Mycroft's long tongue, cleaning it from the thick fluid.

“Are you okay, boys?” he heard their father's voice from outside the room.

“We're fine! Just looking for a plaster so Sherlock can cover the cut!” Mycroft hurried to tuck his cock away.

“Alright. I just thought I heard something.”

“That was Mycroft; you know he's like a baby when he has a scratch!” Sherlock closed his zipper.

Father laughed. “Yes, sometimes he’s a bit whiny. See you, boys!”

They looked at each other when he was gone. “Time to get a plaster and tidy up here,” Mycroft said, gently touching Sherlock's cheek.

“Yes,” Sherlock mumbled, suddenly feeling depressed.

“We'll need to go out there again and bicker around a bit,” Mycroft whispered into his ear, pulling him close. “And tonight you'll stay over with me and I'll fuck you stupid.”

Sherlock had told John that he would stay overnight at his parents' house. “Yes… Can't wait, love.”

“Me neither.”

“We should wash out your shirt,” Sherlock suggested, snuggling against his brother's neck – the uninjured side.

“I'll just put the jacket on.” He embraced him even tighter and then let his hands slide over his arse.

“Don't wanna go out there again…” Sherlock mumbled against his neck.

“But we must. But before, we should really look for a plaster.”

“With a baby in the house, there must be some.”

“Oh, thanks for that by the way.”

Sherlock pulled back and grinned. “I'll make this pic the background of my laptop.”

“Oh, I'd have a better suggestion for that…”

“Yeah, as if I could…”

“Sherlock, baby…” Mycroft looked deep into his eyes. “We knew that from the start. We knew it would be hard, and we knew we can never be open about our love.”

“Yes, I know… But that doesn't mean that I like it.” From the start - which meant around three months ago. Two days after telling their parents about Eurus.

“I don't like it either. Come, help me with closing the wound, and then we'll go back there, and tonight I'll be all yours.”

“Aren't you always?” Sherlock whispered and closed his eyes in pleasure when Mycroft's lips found his again.

“Of course. Always, Sherlock. I love you.”

And as usual, hearing these words did things to Sherlock's heart. “I love you, Mycie.”

Ten minutes later, they walked back outside together, their hands slightly touching in the door, before they were among their family members again, playing Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, the bickering brothers.

The End


End file.
